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The confession of one man humbles all.
Antonio Porchia
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Antonio Porchia
Age: 81 †
Born: 1886
Born: November 25
Died: 1968
Died: November 6
Aphorist
Poet
Writer
Humbles
Confession
Men
More quotes by Antonio Porchia
You are sad because they abandon you and you have not fallen.
Antonio Porchia
Yes, one must suffer, even in vain, so as not to have lived in vain.
Antonio Porchia
I believe that the soul consists of its sufferings. For the soul that cures its own sufferings dies.
Antonio Porchia
My poverty is not complete: it lacks me.
Antonio Porchia
Truth has very few friends and those few are suicides.
Antonio Porchia
I would ask something more of this world, if it had something more.
Antonio Porchia
You are fastened to them and cannot understand how, because they are not fastened to you.
Antonio Porchia
You know so much about me and yet you don't understand me. To know is not to understand. We could know everything and still not understand anything.
Antonio Porchia
My bits of time play with eternity.
Antonio Porchia
When your suffering is a little greater than my suffering I feel that I am a little cruel.
Antonio Porchia
Night is a world lit by itself.
Antonio Porchia
The little things are what is eternal, and the rest, all the rest, is brevity, extreme brevity.
Antonio Porchia
My great day came and went, I do not know how. Because it did not pass through dawn when it came, nor through dusk when it went.
Antonio Porchia
You do not see the river of mourning because it lacks one tear of your own.
Antonio Porchia
The less you think you are, the more you bear. And if you think you are nothing, you bear everything.
Antonio Porchia
Even the smallest of creatures carries the sun in its eyes.
Antonio Porchia
A hundred men together are the hundredth part of a man.
Antonio Porchia
Without this ridiculous vanity that takes the form of self-display, and is part of everything and everyone, we would see nothing, and nothing would exist.
Antonio Porchia
Following straight lines shortens distances, and also life.
Antonio Porchia
When everything is finished, the mornings are sad.
Antonio Porchia